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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957178">The Mirror Tells</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs'>mugsandpugs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Enemies to Lovers, Healing, Indian Harry Potter, M/M, Muggle Life, Parenthood, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Trans Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:29:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding James and Lily's corpses, Snape and Sirius realize they have to work together to protect baby Harry, by going undercover and living as Muggles together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Mirror Tells</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I found this old fic in my drafts. I'm not interested in continuing it, so if you want to take it and write more, you're welcome to!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>
  <span>Chapter One</span>
</h1><p>
  <span>Sirius Black had seen hell firsthand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell was the home of your best friend, shattered, the rising smoke visible hundreds of yards away on a frosty Autumn night. It was the furniture, unrecognizable; sofas and chairs spilling mangled into the street, kitchen appliances melted and warped in the garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell was seeing said best friend, dead and crumpled at the foot of the stairs. Sirius had known he was dead after only a glance, his spine twisted one way, his hips another. He was still wearing those stupid fucking pajamas he wore in school; the red ones with the little golden snitches glittering over the cotton.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When Sirius rolled him over, he saw that James's glasses were broken, blood drying on his temple from the broken frames. He still had some warmth, like dinner that had been left on the counter for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might have knelt by the stairs forever with James's unforgiving weight in his arms, his hazel eyes staring, lifeless, at Sirius's face. They asked, demanded: </span>
  <em>
    <span>why'd you do it, Pads? Why'd you let us down?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He certainly remained long enough for James to cool another degree or two, but a piercing noise snapped him from his reverie: a cry. A baby's wail, sharp and aborted in the wreckage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Harry," Sirius gasped, and carefully set James down. It was impossible, surely; no baby could survive a night like this. He must have gone mad in the interim between landing his motorcycle and touching James's face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still... still! With Gryffindor's valor, Sirius stood and tested his weight on the crumbling little staircase. The first two steps held before he sank through, shredding the skin of his calf in splintered wood. He scarcely felt the pain. Casting a levitation charm on his boots, he soared to the nearest solid ground and landed, running, towards the source of the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Potters had made their safehouse as cozy as possible during their brief weeks in hiding, perhaps to keep their spirits up. Sirius recognized the rug from James's mum's study, and the tipped bookcase with its scattered thrift store novels looked like something Lily hauled from the garbage and painted pink and pretty. He stepped carefully over a tattered oil painting of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, struggling to escape their linen prison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were only two rooms upstairs: a bedroom and a bathroom. The door to the latter hung open on broken hinges. On first glance, the room wasn't as wrecked as the rest of the house. Sure, half the ceiling was missing, yawning open to the damp night above. But the bed was intact and made up nice, the decorative pillows almost obscene in their wholeness. The crib, too; white bars, a mobile of dancing fairies who tinkled their soft bells to lure little darlings to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Sirius trodded on something soft, and he looked down to see Lily. Bile rose in his throat. He stepped off her hand, sinking slowly to his knees. It seemed to take an eternity to reach her, to roll her nightgowned figure over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Lils," he heard himself greet from very far away. "Sorry about your hand." He brushed a mountain of tangled red hair aside to see her milk-pale face, her mouth wide in a silent scream. Her dead weight in his arms, her head lolling sickly on her neck, nearly made him vomit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set her quickly on the bed, crossing her hands over her chest, before he could no longer stand to look at her. The devil had taken his friends, and he'd been only minutes too late...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too late to do what, exactly? To die with them? Perhaps that would’ve been best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A breeze stirred Sirius's long hair. The leather cord he'd used to tie it back must've fallen out on his frantic flight here. He searched his jacket for another, before a snuffling, a sneeze, sounded inside the crib.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's a rat, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. A filthy rat, coming to snack on what's left. He strode forward, rage flaring high. It punched straight from his gut the moment he looked down and saw his godson's emerald eyes gazing, stalwart, into his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Sirius whispered, and felt his knees go out. He landed painfully on the floor, forehead ducked to press to the bars of his crib. He was crying, he realized; something he hadn't done in years. Not during the senior Potter's joint funeral. Not when his mother disowned him; his baby brother spat in his face. He didn't cry for the dead, the ruined, but rather for the toddler who's heart still beat. "Oh, Harry..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to pull himself together. His godson was alive, but injured. His forehead was wet and shiny with blood. Fresh blood. Quite a lot of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come here," Sirius clucked, lifting Harry with a parental instinct he hadn't known he possessed. He'd seen in Muggle films how parents held their babies, minding their neck and head, but had no experience with it himself. He and Regulus were too close in years for him to have helped raise the boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was large enough to balance on his hip while he crossed to the Potters' closet, covering the baby's eyes so that he wouldn't look at his mother. "Come, come," Sirius told Harry, sing-song, narrating his actions to keep them both calm. "We're going to clean you up and get you changed and bring you someplace warm..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the closet, between James's jeans and Lily's t-shirts and unisex sets of long black robes, he found a chest of drawers. Boxers and bras filled one, socks and pajamas in another. "Here we go," Sirius rooted through a third, gathering nappies and onesies and other baby things. There was a bag large enough to contain it all, and Sirius stuffed it full. He would not be coming into this room again. All the galleons in Gringotts couldn't bribe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he'd filled the bag with every teddy and picture book in sight, he took Harry to the bathroom, which remained remarkably untouched from the evil that had rocked the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius pointed his wand at Harry's drenched forehead. "This will sting," he winced. "Forgive me. Scourgify."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry jolted, then screamed as soap bubbles filled and scrubbed his wound clean, and he thrashed in Sirius's grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Sirius gasped, holding him tight. "Sorry, sorry, I'm doing the best I can. I need to see it... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aguamenti."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry's screaming faded as a thin jet of water rinsed the soap away, but he continued to cry, tears dripping down his pudgy cheeks. Sirius felt miserable. He should have studied healing spells when he had the chance... There were almost certainly gentler ways to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here, we'll do it the Muggle way..." The taps miraculously continued to function, and Sirius half-filled the bathtub with warm water, stripped Harry down, and washed him by hand, talking sweetly until the tears slowed, then stopped. He still whimpered, however, when Sirius dabbed his forehead with a washcloth. He pushed at Sirius's hands, shaking his head no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, sweetheart, you're hurt. You've got a... An ouchie. We'll make it better, yeah?" Whatever that sick fuck had done to Harry, Sirius would make sure to return the favor, a thousand and one times over. He'd lacerate him until he was bleeding from every pore. He would—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius's entire body went stiff as he heard a creak on the floorboards. While Harry continued to grizzle, Sirius held his breath, head cocked, ears perked. Was it just a broken house, settling in the wind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute passed. The creak sounded again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, Sirius grabbed the diaper bag and a towel. He wrapped Harry up, stuffed him into his jacket, and aparated to the floor below. It was, strictly speaking, illegal to aparate with anyone under the age of twelve, after some toerag left his child's hearing permanently damaged in the folds between space and time. But Sirius suspected he would be breaking a lot of laws in the upcoming days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Running away from danger was not his forte. He was a Gryffindor, a Marauder. The death of his best friend had him roaring for vengeance. He wanted more than anything to turn, to fight...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He owed it to Harry to live, though. He could not throw himself into danger with his godson clinging to his neck. The full weight of the responsibility crashed on him, then. When James had announced he and Lily were having a baby, Sirius had thought them mad. They were too young; they were key players in a building war. But now Harry was here, and Sirius intended to keep it that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment his feet touched the grass outside, he sprinted for his bike. Where he intended to go, he had yet to decide... Surely, Albus would look for him at his flat. He would try to take Harry away 'for the greater good'. Was there enough time to get to Remus?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud crack sounded behind him as another body aparated on his tail. A nonverbal tripping jinx snatched at his ankle, but Sirius leapt above it before it could catch him. He was not so lucky the second time. When he fell, he twisted his body so that his shoulder hit the ground, not his chest. Not Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flash he'd transformed, leaving Harry behind in his pile of clothing. Padfoot's reliable paws hitting the ground, he lunged for his attacker, fangs bared. The figure in black was caught off guard, having not expected his victim to become a massive canine in the moment between blinks. Sirius struck him, and down they went. When the figure scrabbled for his wand, Sirius sank his teeth into his wrist, satisfied by the crunch of bone. The hooded figure's scream was heart-stoppingly familiar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Severus Snape.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that it, then? Had Voldemort sent his pet to finish his dirty work? Good; it'd been too long since Sirius had ended a Death Eater's life. He kept hold of Snivellus’s wrist, shaking and dragging him like a doll. A mere seven years ago, this very coward had screamed like a little girl at the sight of Remus's wolf form. Sirius would show him that dogs could be far, far worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Planting a paw on the bastard's chest, Sirius made to fasten his jaws around Snape's scrawny throat. He would rip it away and crush it between his teeth, drinking the blood of victory. Just a tiny piece of the revenge he was owed after the death of his closest friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd forgotten how quickly a snake could strike. Despite his broken arm, Snape reached and grabbed one of Sirius's ears, wrenching, and stuffed two cruelly hooked fingers up his nostrils, scraping with jagged nails. He clawed at his eyes. Screaming, Sirius reared back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape rolled over, scrabbling for his wand in the dark. That could not be allowed; he was too skilled at hexes. Sirius would not let him escape. Snorting blood, he dove after him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He grabbed the man by the leg and wrenched him back, then jerked his neck and threw him violently into the side of the motorcycle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bounding back to Harry, he transformed back to his human form, seized his bundle of clothing, gripped his wand, and made to aparate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was almost in the clear, the black vacuum of space washing over him, when a cold, long-fingered hand encircled his ankle.</span>
</p><p> </p><h1>
  <span>Chapter Two - Mercy Fell</span>
</h1><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot. Fool.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had brought the enemy right to Moony's doorstep. They couldn't stay here, no matter how deeply Sirius wanted to confront his friend; to tell Remus all that had happened with Peter; with the Secret Keeping... Safety was at his fingertips. Remus's mum would pour him some tea; his dad would wrap Harry in a soft old blanket...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not to be. Buck naked and with no means of checking on Harry, Sirius had no choice but to round on Snivellus and grab him in a headlock, aparating again to the first destination his mind could conjure. Whether Remus heard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> of their passing, he would never know.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Something, though; something went horribly wrong. Like most young wizards, Sirius had been splinched before. He'd lost a few fingers here; a chunk of skin there. But those had been during practice, when a medic was always on standby to reattach the bits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, this was nothing like those times. As they travelled through the vacuum, Sirius felt as though some vengeful God had pressed a giant ice cream scoop underneath his ribs, digging out a great hole in the softness of his belly. He tried to scream, but the void sucked all sound away. When they crash-landed in the abandoned parking garage where Sirius had attended his first punk concert, his body gave out and he collapsed to the cracked asphalt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrapped a protective arm around Harry, who stirred against his chest. He didn't want to look at his own body... He could feel cold air where no air should be able to touch; deep inside him. He felt things pulsing. He felt wet all over, like something was leaking. Christ; if he'd pissed himself in front of Severus </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> Snape, he'd have to self immolate.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snape.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Where had the slippery bastard gone off to? Sirius tried to prick his ears, but the world was swaying, spinning around him, the lights on the ceiling of the garage swaying. The asphalt below him, too. He felt something hard under his back that might have been his wand... If he could just roll over and get it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Black!" Snape barked from across the garage, and ran to him, dropping to his knees. His broken arm was pressed painfully to his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get away," Sirius muttered, trying to lift his arms to fight him off. His arms would not raise. His body was not obeying his commands, it seemed. That was alarming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"— Fucking shitting arse bastard of a fucking fuck fuck fuck —" Snape was swearing wildy. His yellow teeth were gritted. He pulled Harry out of Sirius's arms, and Sirius gave a whine of protest, but Snape wasn't listening. He simply set the baby aside and attended to Sirius's stomach. When he lifted a slippery loop of intestine from the ground, Sirius's vision fuzzed out for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned to himself, he wished he hadn't. Snape's creepy hands were inside him, stuffing and rearranging, putting things back where they belonged. He was still cursing an impressive storm. Did they teach that kind of language in Slytherin house? Usually Sirius just dropped a 'fuck' and had done with it. Sometimes a 'motherfucker,' if the situation was particularly unfortunate.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Motherfucker,” Sirius muttered.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No, thank you,” Snape replied, still doing distressing things to Sirius’s GI tract. “I’ve seen your mother; she’s not my type.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Funny." Blood gurgled up the path of Sirius's throat. He tilted to spit. Air welled out of him, too, leaving him breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you fucking don't." Snape grabbed his face, pinning his cheek to the concrete so the blood drained slowly. "I haven't started on your lungs yet. If you drown, I'll kill you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-hy," Sirius sputtered, coughing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Why?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need you alive, unfortunately." Snape pulled a vial from the sleeve of his robes, dripping its contents inside Sirius's stomach cavity. A horrible frothing itch rose, bubbles brewing where none should be. Sirius seized, body clattering on the concrete, eyes rolling wildly. Surely, death would be preferable to whatever Snape had in mind for him... Turning him over to the Death Eaters, no doubt. But Harry... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius's heart was skipping beats, fluttering and failing, with no more blood to pump. He was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He could feel himself dying, fight it as he might. Snape could too, evidently, because his swearing stopped to panting breaths. He planted both hands on Sirius's chest and pumped, keeping his heart beating long enough for his potion to take effect. He must've healed his broken arm, though Sirius didn't recall him casting 'episki.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breath fell flat in Sirius's lungs. He could draw no more air. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as fantastic colors exploded across his vision, the seizing of his limbs falling still. He wished he could stop gurgling so... How undignified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Snape snarled, slapping him hard across the face like he’d surely wished to do for decades. "I said</span>
  <em>
    <span> no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Black!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was no use. Sirius was going... Going... Gone.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>At least he would see James again soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><h1>
  <span>Chapter Three</span>
</h1><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>NOTE: I've changed Snape's patronus from a doe to a falcon. I strongly dislike a patronus's tendency to change once the caster falls in love, as it implies that falling in love changes who you are as a person.  <a href="https://www.mugglenet.com/2017/08/patronus-say-personality/">According </a></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><a href="https://www.mugglenet.com/2017/08/patronus-say-personality/">to mugglenet,</a> a falcon patronus "may have been a troubled soul who decided to cast away their old, evil habits to fly down the hard, right path. [Their] nature pulls [them] to the dark, but [they've] chosen to live for the light."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Padfoot sat on a hill in an otherwise barren field, nothing but grass as far as the eye could see. There wasn't a scent to be smelled, which was unnerving for the miraculous nose of a dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled his tail around his paws, wishing for a cloud, a sound, an insect; anything to break the monotony. The realization that he was utterly alone, with not a soul left in his world, began to prick him with anxious claws. When he climbed down his hill and set to walking, there was not a single difference between one step and the next. He may as well have been standing still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this his next forever?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The thought made a creeping unease crawl along his skin, causing his fur to ripple. Padfoot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius,</span>
  </em>
  <span> had always been a lively boy. He liked dorms full of other lively people to joke around with; adventures and pranks and snogging and inventing rules just to break them. Life since leaving Hogwarts had been a bust in that regard; sure, Order missions with Prongs were ace, all magical James Bond shite, but then he'd gone into </span>
  <em>
    <span>hiding...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Quiet reminded him of a home where he was unwanted. Quiet was dinner parties with six silver spoons per place setting, stiff dress-robes, and uncles looking you over like a show-pony, deciding which of your cousins you would marry. Quiet was your little brother's disgusted stare when he caught you kissing another bloke. Quiet was the ringing moment after your mother slapped you, digging her opal ring into your cheek until she drew “pure” blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Padfoot broke into a run, four paws flying and landing in synchrosity. This place never stole the breath from his lungs, or the strength from his muscles The grass parted for him, on and on, and the sun never set, and there was nowhere to go. He might've been running for a century before his heart could bear it no longer and he collapsed in defeat, beating his head into his paws in pure aggravation.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His despair grew when he realized he couldn't hear his own heartbeat, even tucked down like this. Had he died? If this was death, no wonder so many came back as ghosts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp cry made him jolt upright, looking around for the source. High in the sky was a black shape, coming in fast. Though a dog's eyes weren't as sharp as its nose, eventually he made out the wings of a bird making a spectacular dive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little falcon came close enough for its belly-feathers to brush the grass before leveling out and ascending. It circled where Padfoot lay, and let out a cry so sharp it made Sirius's sensitive ears ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he swiveled his head to follow the bird's progress, he saw something perhaps a few yards off; a stone archway, from which a black curtain twitched in the nonexistent breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Padfoot cocked his head, puzzled. How was it possible he'd missed it before? Had the falcon somehow manifested it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing, his curiosity overwhelming, he padded towards the thing. The falcon came to a landing beside him and hopped at his side, much clumsier on land than it was in the air. When Sirius tried to sniff it, it gave him an affronted glare and took several steps away, fluffy talons pricking the dirt.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>As they approached the archway, Sirius stalled, head cocked, ears twitching. He heard faint whisperings on the other side, familiar despite being too far away to make out. He thought he heard a baby's cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncertain, he took a step away. The thing had a strange aura to it, and it made him wary. He didn’t want to touch it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The falcon was having none of it. Rounding on him, it bit him on the hock, sharp enough to make him yelp. He rounded on the bird, fangs bared, snarling, but the bird was not cowed. It fluffed its wings out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him like it weighed 200 pounds, not two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, Sirius was alarmed. He took a step back, and the bird advanced on him, still hissing, snapping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His leg brushed the still-twitching curtain and found no purchase on the other side. Yelping in fear, Sirius scrabbled and fell through the veil, tumbling paws over ears the whole long, dark way down.</span>
</p><h1>
<span><br/></span><span>Chapter Four - Veritaserum</span>
</h1><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sirius woke with a wet gasp, a throbbing in his head, and a powerful ache in his gut. He was also, quite unfortunately, bound with ropes, complicated knots keeping his arms and legs secured tight to an uncomfortable armchair. A musty-smelling blanket had been thrown over his body, but he suspected that he was naked underneath it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn't be the first time he'd found himself in similar situations. He had the cunning and wiles to escape. He teetered his weight from side to side, meaning to overbalance and break the old chair, even if it hurt when he hit the ground. Unfortunately, this chair had been magicked flat on the wooden floor, and no amount of squirming would tip it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. He was out of ideas. And hungry. He couldn't remember ever being so hungry in his life; it was as if he were completely empty inside, hollowed out and starving.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Empty inside...</span>
  </em>
  <span> He remembered, then, how he'd been splinched and eviscerated. How Snape had played in his guts like they were modeling clay. Squirming again, this time in discomfort, Sirius turned his head to bite the edge of his heavy blanket, pulling it off his shoulder and dropping it into his lap. He looked down at his body, scarred and tattooed. His belly looked strange; hairless and pink, the skin brand new and baby-soft. Still, it was whole; no scars, no void. As far as he could tell, all was where it should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did Lily always say when he found himself in a bad situation? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Use your head, Pads; slow down and think.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What would </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> do if she found herself bound, tits-out in a strange house?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a house. A sitting room, to be precise. There was a small green fire in the grate to provide light, but otherwise it looked bare and shabby. Everything was covered by a thick layer of dust. There were places on the faded wallpaper that looked darker than others, as though paintings had hung there for years before being torn down. Cobwebs filled the corners, and shiny cockroach corpses gleamed in the carpet. When Sirius strained his neck enough, he could make out a narrow staircase just behind him, and an archway leading to what was probably a kitchen.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>From upstairs, he heard what might be soft footfalls. Pacing. And then, unmistakably, a fussing baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole wretched night came flooding back to him, all at once. The smoking ruins of Godric's Hollow. James, dead. Lily, dead. Harry, injured. Snape...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Snape!" Sirius bellowed, throwing his head back. He thrashed harder in his chair. He attempted to transform, but there must've been an enchantment on his ropes; his other shape would not come. "Snape, get your scrawny arse down here </span>
  <em>
    <span>now! </span>
  </em>
  <span>If you've touched a hair on my godson's head, I'll—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll what, pray tell?" That silken voice came from the direction of the staircase, descending as the slimy git approached. "Strangle me? Ah, but your arms; pity... Oh, perhaps you could headbutt me </span>
  <em>
    <span>very hard..."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius snarled, feral as a hound. He wrenched his neck trying to overturn the chair; to attack his captor. His blanket fell from the lap to pool on the floor, and Snape tutted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Honestly, Black. I know you were desperate to show all of Hogwarts the family jewels, but I assure you I am not, and have never been, interested." With a flick of his wand, the blanket returned to Sirius, the corners knotting around his neck like a backwards cape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Passing Sirius's chair, Snape shocked him by dropping a blanket-wrapped lump in his lap. Baby Harry; clean, bandaged, and dressed in a yellow onesie. The baby gurgled, sleepy and cross, but unharmed. Or rather, no more harmed than he'd been when Sirius found him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He strode past Sirius's chair to the room that might have been a kitchen, then, beckoning offhandedly with his wand, he dragged Sirius's chair with him. Swearing foully, Sirius tried to curl his body to keep Harry safely in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen was just as dirty and unkempt as the sitting room. It looked as though nobody had been inside this dusty house for years; nobody but spiders and mice. A paper bag of food sat on one of the counters, the shop name printed on the paper one Sirius didn't recognize. 'ALDI.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape cast bored-looking cleaning spells on various surfaces, ferreting dishware and more cobwebs out of cupboards as he went. He moved as though he knew the place well. From the bag he drew a tin tub with a plastic lid. "Annie's Baby Formula” read the tin in blocky pink letters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius had no idea who Annie was, or what sort of formula she made with babies as an ingredient, but he watched with narrowed eyes as Snape filled a bottle with water. Two taps of his wand, and it was steaming-warm. Cracking open the tin of Annie's Baby Formula, Snape used a plastic scoop to measure out fine white powder, which he mixed into the bottle, affixing a rubber nipple on top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's your baby," Snape sneered, freeing one of Sirius's arms to the elbow. "You feed him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius had never been good at wandless magic, but perhaps he could hex Snape when his back was turned? Of course, there was a high chance he'd end up hexing himself, or Harry...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try it," Snape scoffed, demonstrating his uncanny ability to always guess what people were thinking. Sirius felt his dislike of the man grow. He'd been a creepy git in school, and he'd only become more disgusting in the years since. He was taller than he'd been back then, his hair longer, but he seemed sallower and more hunched than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What; your master doesn't let you out of the basement?" Sirius taunted. "You might be good at brewing potions, Snivellus, but you know you're not good enough to run with the big dogs. Not with mixed blood like yours."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Blood of a dog, indeed," Snape said, his voice dangerously soft. "What was the sentence for becoming an unregistered anamagi, again? Five years in Azkaban?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, you're going to turn me in?" Sirius scoffed. "With </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> ruddy great thing on your arm? Good luck, mate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape touched his left forearm. Though it was covered by his robes — he always dressed head to toe, no matter how hot it was. Probably ashamed of his creepy little spider-body — there was no chance he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>bear Voldemort's mark.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Harry fussed, making a grab for the bottle. He was clearly hungry. Sirius pulled it away from him, not trusting it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape snorted. "If I wanted to poison the brat, I'd've done it already. Try it yourself, if you must."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still glaring, Sirius raised the bottle as far as his bound arm would allow. He held it at an angle and depressed the nipple until a jet of milky fluid hit him in the lips. He closed his eyes, letting his dog senses scan the product for danger. His lips did not go numb; his tastes did not lose their sharpness. It seemed for all the world like sweet, warm milk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry whined again, green eyes big and eager, and Sirius sighed. Whatever game Snape was playing, this was probably safe. Sirius let him have the bottle, thankful that the baby seemed to know what to do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape turned his attention back to the paper bag. More tins were revealed, and when their contents were dumped into bowls and heated, Sirius smelled soup.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Sirius was so hungry that his mouth watered, though the concept of food from tins felt very odd to him. He watched a lot of Muggle films, mostly to annoy his family, but he'd always been more interested in the action side of things than in domestic tasks. Still, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> noticed their strange ways of storing and preparing food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lamb and rice," Snape said, with a sardonic arch of his brow. "Bon appetit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he offered a spoon to Harry, Harry studied the meat and grains with puzzlement, before pinching a piece of the former and bringing it to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius gasped. "You can't feed meat to a baby..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you know so much about it, Black? The boy is over a year old. He can and should be eating some solids."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gummed and swallowed the food, reaching eagerly for more. Sirius felt almost too overwhelmed with the strangeness of the night to speak. "What do you know about babies?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"More than you, apparently." Snape fed Harry a few more spoonfuls of soup before eating the rest of the bowl himself. Harry, satisfied, returned to his bottle… And Sirius’s stomach rumbled. There was a second bowl on the counter, steaming invitingly…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Snape met his eyes. Sirius grit his teeth and scowled. He would not ask; would not beg… He would never show softness to a servant of the man who’d killed so many people he loved. He was a hostage, a captive, and he and his godson were unlikely to survive the encounter the longer they stayed here…</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Snape plucked Harry from his arms and handed Sirius the bowl in his place. In absence of a spoon, or another hand to use, Sirius had to hold the bowl to his mouth and drink. It was overly processed and far too salty, but in that moment it tasted delicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slowly,” Snape snapped. “I had to reattach your entire stomach not two hours ago. Don’t go jostling things around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius growled, the dog in him not liking the limits placed on the food he was given. Snape rolled his eyes. "Do as you like, but I'm not playing in your organs again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius tried to be more mindful of the broth he drank; the meat and grains he chewed. When he focused, he could feel the hot food entering his freshly arranged stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finished half the soup before he tasted something bitter that his tongue didn’t recognize. It reminded him a bit of the cleaning potion Kreacher used to scour dishware with. He growled again. Snape smiled coolly. "You really are too trusting, Black. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Gryffindor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With panic blooming anew, Sirius made to throw the bowl at Snape, but was already losing control of his limbs. They drooped, losing all strength. His head lolled on his neck. Before he could drop the bowl, or Harry, Snape swooped in to take both away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set the former aside and balanced the latter on his hip, then watcheed Sirius twitch and slump with obvious enjoyment. "Can you hear me?" Snape tried, becoming fuzzy ‘round the edges as Sirius’s eyes lost the ability to focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Sirius said, though it wasn’t him speaking; not willingly. His voice rose straight from his throat without once stopping to consult his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. We're going to have us a little Q&amp;A session."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slimy git had poisoned him, and Sirius had fallen for it. And why?! Because the food Harry ate; the food from the same bowl Snape ate from, had been untainted? Because he'd been so very hungry? Absolute idiocy. He deserved whatever happened to him next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's start with something easy. What was the first potion we brewed at the beginning of first year?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius couldn't bloody remember; potions had never been a class he enjoyed. Oh, he'd scraped top marks, of course — through luck and through cheating — but it wasn't something he thought about at night. Clearly, though, his subconscious recalled: "Draft to cure boils."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very good. How about this... What is the Dark Lord's given name?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Voldemort's given name? How in the ruddy hell should Sirius know?! He wasn't privy to birth certificates from hell. "I don't know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't expect you would. Let's get into this, shall we? Veritaserum only lasts so long, and I don't fancy wasting another drop on you. Did you give the Potter's whereabouts to the Dark Lord?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His answer must have surprised Snape, for he tried asking it another way. "Are you responsible for Lily's death?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> involvement in Lily's death?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Explain your involvement"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When James asked me to be the Secret Keeper for their hiding space, I convinced him to instead use Peter. I believed he would be the perfect misdirect. Your lot would target me, and my friends would stay safe, secreted and secret-keeping, until the war ended."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Peter Pettigrew."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't a question or command, so Sirius didn't answer. Snape tried again: "Was Peter Pettigrew the Potters' Secret Keeper?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Did Peter Pettigrew betray the Potters to the Dark Lord?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't see or hear it happen, but Albus swore that as long as a Secret Keeper holds their tongue, then those they're vowed to protect will remain safe. Peter must have told, though I don't know if it was willingly or by force."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, it was willingly, alright." The dark certainty in Snape's voice made Sirius uneasy. What did he know that he wasn't telling?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought seemed to occur to Snape. "You are an animagus."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a question; not a command; no response required. Snape sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you an unregistered animagi?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Name all of the unregistered animagi that you know or knew personally."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sirius Black, Cygnus Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Describe the animal form that Peter Pettigrew takes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius did as asked, describing the size, shape, and color of the rat. Snape pushed Sirius's head back to stare into his eyes while he spoke, and Sirius wondered if he was trying to scoop the image out of his very thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why were you at Godric's Hollow tonight?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I knew something was wrong, and I came to see what it was."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did you know something was wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius described the two matching mirrors he and James owned. They'd bought them at a Muggle shop before James had charmed a connection between them. "I check on them every night, and they always answered. But tonight... Or… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Last </span>
  </em>
  <span>night, I suppose, I heard screaming. Nobody picked up. No matter how I shouted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape's sallow skin went a horrible gray-green. For a moment, Sirius thought he might vomit. Hadn't he had a pathetic little crush on Lily when they were small, crawling after her like an ugly gargoyle? Luckily she'd come to her senses and shooed him away before graduation, but maybe it was possible her death didn't thrill him the way Sirius thought it would. So the Death Eater did have a soft spot, after all.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Why did you take the baby?" Snape gestured to Harry, starting to doze off against his hip. He'd been fed and cleaned, and this must be an exhausting time for a body so small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am his godfather, legally and magically. I am bound to him for the duration of my life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where were you going to take him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hadn't decided yet. Probably Remus's house; his family know how to be parents more than mine do." The understatement of the century. If his Dark-supporting family got their inbred hands on Voldermort's adversary, they'd surely butcher him and lay his remains at the feet of Slytherin's statue in an attempt to revive the bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd take an infant to a</span>
  <em>
    <span> werewolf</span>
  </em>
  <span> above your own precious Dumbledore?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hadn't thought of taking him to Albus." And the way Snape said 'werewolf' with that curl to his lip ignited a spark of anger in Sirius's chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why ever not? He's the leader of your little Order, isn't he?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And how on earth did Snivellus know that?! How much, exactly, did the Death Eaters know about the Order's resistance? No wonder they were killing them off like flies, if all their secrets and identities were out in the open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, he is the leader. But I don't trust Albus; not entirely. He uses people, and I don't want to give him the chance to put my godson in his little chess games."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius hadn't known the words were true until they left him. But they must be his absolute truth. A correctly brewed veritaserum left no room for lies, and Snape was practically a wunderkind when it came to potions; surpassing all of their professors by age fourteen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't know what he was expecting, but it was not for Snape to smile, nasty and thin. "Well, well, Black; I never expected for us to agree on something. Perhaps you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>have two brain cells to rub together."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Snape made good use of the rest of their hour, questioning Sirius about everything surrounding that night's attack, the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew ("I don't know; maybe his mum's house?" "And where is that, Black?") and, oddly, Sirius's relations. ("You're not close to any of your family? Not even Regulus?" "They disowned me, you git. I'm not exactly invited 'round for tea.")</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He asked very few questions about the other Order members, which was a relief and a shock. Shouldn't a Death Eater want to know everything about how to destroy the enemy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more belligerent Sirius grew, the more obvious it was that the potion was wearing off. Snape waited until Sirius was swearing at him and demanding his wand back before declaring their tête-à-tête over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He magicked Sirius's chair back into the living room, stuck the wooden feet to the ground, and transfigured the whole thing into a flatter shape so that Sirius was lying on his back. He vanished the rope bindings, then hesitated. "Do you need to piss?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius tried to sit up; to lunge for the Death Eater. Fuck the wand; he'd claw his eyes out with his bare hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snape sighed, bored and impatient. With another flick of his wand, he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Sirius's body that made him lose all sensation in his limbs. It was like the polar opposite of a body-bind hex; rather than being stiff and unyielding, Sirius's body felt like a pile of overcooked noodles. He slumped bonelessly to the dirty floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine, but don't complain if you soil yourself. This was your choice." With difficulty, Snape hauled Sirius back into the modified 'chair,' covering him again with his blanket. He then dropped Harry's sleeping form on Sirius's chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lights on or off?" Snape asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took monumentous effort to move his jaw; to project sound from his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Fuck... You."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Snape sighed. "Goodnight, Black." He dimmed the lights, but didn't turn them entirely off. His feet were light and swift as a cat's on the stairs. Sirius heard water run in the bathroom; a creak of bedsprings. The bastard was going to bed!</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Snape!” Sirius yelled, annoyed, then felt bad when Harry startled and peeked at his face. Was this his strategy, then? Keep Sirius docile with a baby and a few cheap jinxes? And for what? Who would be coming to collect him tomorrow; Bellatrix? Surely she’d love nothing more than to ‘take care of’ her estranged little cousin...</span>
</p><p> </p><h1>
  <span>Chapter Five</span>
</h1><p> </p><p>
  <b>Note: The italicized beginning of this chapter features the assault and non-consensual outing of a trans character, as well as some transphobic language. Proceed with caution.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"</span>
  <em>
    <span> Severus snarled, spitting pink foam, the rage and humiliation and anxiety combing into a sick whirlpool in his gut. Perhaps it was the soap-swill on an empty stomach, but he felt perilously close to vomiting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The words had only been out for a microsecond, and already the regret was hitting him like a tanker truck. He nearly gasped from the force of it, tripping over his own treacherous tongue to take them back. No-- no! He didn't mean it! He-- how could he--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He saw the exact moment all trace of warmth left Lily's eyes, and he knew he'd gone too far. That he'd finally snapped something that had been fraying for a long time. There was a reason Lily spent more time with the Gryffindor girls than she did with him nowadays...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt loose; unhinged. Hanging just on the fringes of his body, about to float away at any second. Without Lily, he had no anchor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," </span>
  <em>
    <span>she said coolly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The words struck like dull punches. He'd never thought to hear that name from her lips... But then, she could probably say the same, couldn’t she?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He slipped away from himself, then, a high ringing in his ears. He watched her lips moving in silence as she and Potter screamed at each other. As she turned her back. As she walked away; away from him. Away from Severus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was slammed back into reality when Potter snatched him off the ground, exposing him to the group of curious onlookers as his robes once more fell around his head, blanketing him in darkness. He writhed and screamed, an old fear, one he seldom thought about anymore, overtaking him. From Potter's muffled voice: </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, God... Oh, no. Anything but that... In the darkness, Severus saw his father's ruddy face; heard his jeering. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you ‘think’ you're a boy?! That's not something you can just 'think,' you little freak! Stop talking rubbish before someone hears what a pervert you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fabric was ripped away from him, leaving him blind and exposed... And the crowd went silent. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Potter </span>
  <em>
    <span>went silent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He hit the ground, then, jarring his neck and head. He didn't move. He couldn't move. He felt like a puppet with its strings cut.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hands touched him; gentle. Something dragged his robes from over his head, covering his freakish body. Prefect and werewolf Remus Lupin regarded him, a nauseating concern in his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Are you injured?" he asked, his voice a little too high, as though he wasn't thinking the same thing everyone else was thinking: </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why does Severus bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snape</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a cunt?!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Get off of me, werewolf." He spoke too softly for anyone else to hear, but it had the desired effect: Lupin winced, withdrawing. Most of the pity in his expression dried up.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Lupin pulled away from him, disgusted, and time skipped to three years later, in the centuries-old class of Malfoy Manor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Kneel," Lucius muttered, his mouth close to Snape's ear. "Keep your head down, half-blood. He doesn't like eye-contact, unless he asks for it."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snape obeyed. The Dark Lord was a powerful Legillimens; surely more so than Snape's underdeveloped skills. The less glimpse he caught of Snape's thoughts, the better.</span>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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